


Chandelier

by Japo_Chan23



Series: Dearest melancholy [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: An attempt at writing a character going through grief, And Charlie is doing her best, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aniaya is a blessing, Character Death, Charlie and Aniaya and his parents are trying their best to help him out though it works sometimes, Elio is trying to cope but he sucks at it the poor boy, F/F, F/M, Five Stages of Grief, Gen, Grief/Mourning, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I don't know if it's really angsty though it's like, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Maria is trying to be a good mom okay, Mild Angst, Not from any of the main characters though, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Pansexual Character, References to Drugs, References to Sia, Saying major character death because the death of this unnamed lover is important, Slice of Life, Suicidal Thoughts, Tagging is really hard, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, We love Aniaya Mwangi in this household, mentions of marijuana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-14 15:52:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Japo_Chan23/pseuds/Japo_Chan23
Summary: There were points and time, in the too quiet silence, in the room that seems to never have some sort of light, sans the light trying to peek through the curtains. Points where he hides inside the comforts of his bed, hidden beneath the confines of his too big blanket, which used to feel like it wasn’t enough. While he can fake the warmth, having hidden under the blanket for so long, he can’t seem to fake comfort, fake arms being wrapped around him or his legs intertwined with the other. A back pressed against his chest, or vice versa.Sometimes, he expects to just hear the door open, a chuckle and a whisper of “what are you doing in the dark, nerd? You’re so dumb sometimes,” but he never does. And maybe that’s what the worst part of it. Dealing with the loss of his lovely. Having to just never witness them again. Never hear their voice, taste them again, feel their body next to his again.And maybe that's why he's hurting so much.





	Chandelier

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross was the one that had come up with the theory of grief containing five stages. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. In that order. Too simple to actually contain and represent all the complex emotions and feelings thrown into the loss of a beloved. 

Grief isn’t something that can be explained in five words or stages, as much as everyone wants to do so. It's so much more complicated than that. 

The meaning of grief, in the Merriam-Webster dictionary, is “deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement” or “a cause of such suffering”. 

The definition of grief doesn’t even explain how grief is like, either. It’s so confusingly  _ simple _ , for some ungodly reason, doesn’t anyone understand that it’s too complex to try and define, to explain in five mere words? 

Losing a beloved, be it a lover, a guardian, a sibling, anyone, is always hard.

It hurt. Very brief periods of time where it felt like things were going to be okay, where things felt like the world wasn’t crumbling around him, he thinks,  _ this is it. This is what acceptance is. This is the moment where I finally move on, and get my life together.  _

Only to wake up in a room with the door locked shut, and the shades drawn. With the bed empty, sans his own body, but lacking the warmth of someone dear on the left. The silence, which used to be a comfort in the small apartment, now eerie and unaccepted. 

Grief is a room where the silence lingers for too long, where the curtains are never brought up to reveal the world, where the door remains locked indefinitely, where the meaning of loneliness is something he understands far too well now. 

Grief is a dark, and scary, scary thing. It is confusing, and it is complex. There is no universal way to cope with it, nor is there some universal way to help someone mourning a loss. To each their own. 

Despite it being as easy as being in a dark room with the ongoing silence, the grief was harder to cope with at moments. Grief, in its darkest hours, was a small box, locked and preventing anyone inside of it from getting out until they found the key known as acceptance. It’s like a contraption that would appear in  _ Saw _ . Something with only two ways out, either ending with figuring it out, or ending in death. Truly poetic. Yeah, right. 

Elio couldn't decide if he liked the death option better, but really, he didn't mind the idea of it. Sometimes dying seemed appealing, but he also realized that his friends and family would miss him. Even if he doesn't see them as much anymore. Thank god for them still visiting him. That still doesn’t stop him from singing Chandelier, drunk, with everyone else at the party, with a different idea in mind when everyone is screaming about swinging from the chandelier. 

He doesn't even know why he's so angry and upset and just so sad over this. His lover, a complete stranger at one point, why did their death, something inevitable, have to affect him so much?

It hurt. A lot.

Elio Veneto couldn't really cope with it. He missed his lover, his beloved.  _ Darling, come back to me, I miss you so much. Please come back. Please, please, please.  _

Sometimes, he wishes that he went to go get groceries instead of his dearest. So he would be the one that got into the car accident, not his lovely. A dark part of him wants his lover to be the one to mourn the loss of Elio Veneto, not the other way around.

Alas, it was he that had to mourn. 

There were days where he would do something, and then text his lover’s old number, or call, only to have it go straight to voicemail. Sometimes it never really dawns upon him that his lovely is dead, and that he’s been dealing with a loss for nearly a year now. 

It was just so  _ hard damn it,  _ cut him some fucking slack. 

“I never really know how to deal with losing them,” Elio sighed, his left thumb rubbing against the side of his mug methodically, while he used his right pointer finger to trace the rim of said mug. Charlie Kenning, bless her heart, has been there for him periodically. Not exactly being the comfort he wants, but being the comfort he needed. “Sometimes I think it’s my fault. Would you consider it my fault? Making my lover go out to get groceries that day?” 

She never really smothered him, and always reassured him when he was doubting things, never told him to get over it. He appreciated her. He’s glad that she was able to retire from the military last year. 

“Elio, it’s not your fault at all. I don’t know why you keep suggesting that,” Charlie scoffed, leaning back in her chair. She had her leg crossed over the other, one arm over the back of the chair, her other hand nursing her cup of coffee. She took a sip before furrowing her brow, placing her cup onto the table. “It’s not your fault, like, at all. The dude who was  _ high _ is at fault, Elio, you need to stop saying that it’s your fault.”

“Whatever, I’m partially to blame,” he grunted, glancing down. He stared down his mug, as if coffee would provide some sort of input. Hell, maybe he’ll get some sort of epiphany from staring down the rabbit hole (rabbit hole being the light brown liquid). 

Charlie sighed, rubbing her forehead as if she was soothing a headache. “I’m sorry, Elio.”

“You and me both, Char.” 

Sometimes, Charlie wasn’t even there for him to go to, or for her to randomly know that it was a bad day and end up at his place. Something about her mom, Elizabeth, having to get surgery back in Welford. So she had to leave the states for an indefinite amount of time. 

There were points and time, in the too quiet silence, in the room that seems to never have some sort of light, sans the light trying to peek through the curtains. Points where he hides inside the comforts of his bed, hidden beneath the confines of his too big blanket, which used to feel like it wasn’t enough. While he can fake the warmth, having hidden under the blanket for so long, he can’t seem to fake comfort, fake the arms being wrapped around him or his legs intertwined with the another. A back pressed against his chest, or vice versa. 

Sometimes, he expects to just hear the door open, a chuckle and a whisper of “what are you doing in the dark, nerd? You’re so dumb sometimes,” but he never does. And maybe that’s what the worst part of it. Dealing with the loss of his lovely. Having to just never witness them again. Never hear their voice, taste them again, feel their body next to his again. 

And maybe that’s why he’s hurting so much.

Because he’ll never be able to witness them truly live again. 

It’s so obvious. When someone dies, they are no longer alive, but it never really dawns on him the true meaning of death, even with his darling being six feet under. Hell, even now, a year later, he still isn’t able to accept the fact that they’re gone. 

It’s been one year, five months, and three days since it happened, exactly. All things considered, he should be over it- everyone around him seemed to have gotten over what happened, so why wasn't he?

“You need to get out of this apartment. Maybe I can help you out? You know your father and I can get you out of here,” Maria mumbled, rubbing Elio’s arm. She squeezed his shoulder, before embracing him in a hug. 

Burying his face in his mother’s shoulder, Elio wrapped his arms around Maria’s waist, grip loose. His arms felt heavy. “I don’t want you to do that for me, Ma. I can take care of myself. When Charlie comes back, I’ll probably move in with her until I feel better,” Elio said into her shoulder, thumb and forefinger pinching at the back of his mom’s sweater. “Or just until I can find some other place to crash. Please don’t do anything for me Ma, I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Sighing, Maria rubbed at Elio’s back. “Elio- Elio, honey, you  _ know _ I don’t mind doing these things for you. Especially now. Sweetie, please, let me and your father do this for you.”

“It’s okay, Ma. You and dad don’t need to do anything for me, I’m fine,” Elio reassured, pulling back from the hug so he can look at his mom. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay.” 

The woman stared at her son warily, expression soft, shoulders slumped. “Okay, baby. Just call me or your father whenever you need us, okay?” She ran her fingers through his black hair, before trailing her fingers down the side of his face lightly, her fingertips barely touching him before she cupped his cheek. 

“Okay.”

He didn’t get out of bed the next day. 

Or the day after that. 

Of course he got out to use the bathroom, and to get a water bottle, but aside from that? Barely even left. There was a box of cheez its by the bed, something his dearest did, that he decided to do afterwards. He kept it up- the box of cheez its. If he felt like eating, he just ate the snack, but a majority of the time he just drank water in his bed, barely even moving.

He vaguely remembers Charlie texting him. Something about what the grief counselor Rita Morgan said. Something, something, talked about a lot, something about processing. He didn’t know, but he remembers feeling angry and tossing his phone literally into his box of cheez its. Like, for no reason whatsoever. It’s just in there now, and everytime he reaches in to grab a bag, sometimes the back of his hand grazes against the device, but he tends to ignore it in favor of snacking. Besides, it wasn’t like he needed for anything. He only used it to text, and he wasn’t in the mood. Hasn’t been for over a year.

With a sigh, he turned over onto his stomach, his feet peeking out at the edges of his plain, white duvet. His arm stuck out, hanging over the edge, untrimmed nails barely touching the red box by his bed. Elio ran his other hand through his hair- black, messy. Almost curly. He paused, his hand stilling, before he slid his hand down the back of his head with a groan, leaving his fingers pinching at the back of his neck. 

There’s just something about not being able to get out of bed. He knows he should, and a lot of things are screaming at him to get out of bed, but the duvet over his bare shoulders, the sounds arising from the springs in his mattress whenever he moved, the feeling of just existing,  _ floating _ even, felt like a better idea than living.

Elio didn’t do much when he laid in bed. Drifted in and out of sleep, snack, drink, think, bite at the corner of his pillow, pinch and scratch at his skin, rub his eyes, move around too much. Et cetera, et cetera. 

Just the usual. 

He knows he hears the chime of his phone from within the red box on his floor, but he can’t find it in him to actually acknowledge it anymore than just knowing it went off. Probably just a text from his father. Elio couldn’t really find it in himself to  _ care _ . 

Which, in his personal opinion, was perfectly fine. 

Elio doesn’t even know how much time has passed, but he somehow found it in himself to get out of bed, throw on some clothes that didn’t smell too bad, managed to get his wallet, phone, keys, other necessities, and just out of his apartment. He’s surprised he wasn’t fire from his job, but thank god for all that vacation saved up.

And, surprisingly, he ended up at a Starbucks with a coffee instead of at a cemetary with a rose. 

Granted, he still ended up there anyways, except also with a frappe. Which made him feel like absolute shit, but he showed up with a bouquet of flowers still. 

“Hi, honey,” Elio greeted, placing the bouquet in front of the gravestone. He sat down in front of it, his legs crossed. “It’s been awhile, you know? I still can’t believe it’s been this long.” Yawning, Elio covered his mouth, before taking a sip of his drink, biting at the straw. “I miss you a lot. Although I think you already know that.”

Blowing air out through slightly parted lips, he leaned back slightly, before resting his forehead on the cap of his drink. “God, I miss you  _ so, so _ much. Please come back.” He bit at his lip. 

Ten minutes passed in silence, before he decided to continue with the very one sided conversation. 

“You know, despite everything, I’m kind of keeping up with what’s going on in the world right now. On the ride here, I just, went on Twitter and Google. Just to see what’s happening, and if I’m being completely honest, I wished I didn’t check,” Elio chuckled. He rubbed his nose, not bothering to move his forehead from its place on his drink. “Like, apparently IHOP decided to change its name to IHOB, and everyone thought it would mean International House of  _ Breakfast _ , but they revealed the other day that it stood for International House of  _ Burgers _ . Everyone’s confused and no one understands why,” Elio frowned, tapping his fingernails against his cup. 

Pursing his lips, Elio moved his head slightly, so instead of his forehead resting on the cup, it was his chin. His legs ached a little because of the position, but it was fine. He didn’t really mind. “You know how I’m not really into politics, but I know you are, so I thought you’d like to know what’s happening, currently. Uhm, not to long ago Donald Trump shook hands with Kim Jong Un. Crazy, right? And you already know that South Korea and North Korea came together to have one team for some sports at the Olympics, I told you that at the time, but the president of South Korea stepped foot in North Korea, I think? Or the other way around, I can’t remember.”

Elio pushed his straw around a little, before pressing on the tip, flattening it. “It’s been so weird without you,” he whispered, rising slightly so he could take a sip of his drink. He started biting the straw, his fingers scratching at the cap. “Charlie’s currently back in the Welford, her mother had to get surgery. I don’t know where, but I do know that Charlie has a girlfriend, now. Her name’s Aniaya Mwangi. She’s beautiful. Her family’s from Kenya, but she was born over in Detroit, I think? It could be Holland, or Flint, for all I know. I’m happy Charlie met her,” Elio smiled.

He remained there for awhile. He wasn’t keeping track, but he knew he was there for awhile. Watching people walk to speak to someone they once knew. Frowning at the very obvious emo teenager that just talked out loud to no one in particular and sat on graves. Very disrespectful in his personal opinion, but he wasn’t going intrude. He was spending time with his lovely, not babysitting some teen who thought it fun to be at a cemetary.

“I don’t really realize you’re dead sometimes,” Elio whispered, poking at the headstone. With a frown, he scratched the back of his neck, before going back to playing with his straw. He finished the drink long ago, but there was still some whipped cream at the bottom that he tried to get every so often.

Kissing his fingertips, he touched the name on the headstone, before gathering up his things and standing up. “I love you, darling,” Elio mumbled. He stood there for a moment, before walking away with a sigh.

He ended up back at his place with another drink from Starbucks.

Sitting down on the counter in his kitchen, he fumbled with his phone, before calling Aniaya. “Hey, I know Charlie’s still in Welford right now, but, I don’t know, can you come over? For a few days? Charlie’s been texting me and telling me not to be alone, so. Do you wanna watch some movies? Or what?” 

He chewed on his lip, nodding, even though his friend couldn’t see that over the phone. “Yeah, okay. Thank you. I’ll see you soon, then. Bring food, by the way.” Elio scratched his cheek, hopping off of the counter so he could go turn his television on. “Yes, I have Netflix! Come on over here already! I’m finding movies right now, hurry up!” Laughing, Elio laid down on the couch, his drink resting on his chest. “Yeah, I love you too, but I’d love you even more if you got your butt over here!” Ending the call, he threw his phone onto the floor, glad that it ended up within arms reach. 

Humming he started to look for a movie to watch, before deciding on The Iron Giant.

“Hoe I’m here, open the door!” Aniaya shouted from behind the locked door, knocking on it as well. 

Elio jumped up with a grin, unlocking the door to see his best friend with multiple bags containing food and drinks. “I’m so glad to see you,” Elio said, grabbing some of the bags.

“Likewise. How you been, baby? And I know you haven’t been responding to my girlfriend, she’s been going off about it, nonstop,” Aniaya frowned, placing the drinks on the counter before dumping the other bags by it.

Thinning his lips, Elio closed the door before leaning against it, messing with the knob. “You know, I’ve been okay. Doing a lot better, actually. Thanks for asking.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've never dealt with the loss of someone close to me. 
> 
> I wanted to write this, because I've had to witness a friend, who is very dear to me, mourn someone who had passed away due to suicide. She inspires me, sometimes, and if she ever found out about this, and feels the want to read this, then I'll give her the go ahead. But I won't be sharing this with her. 
> 
> This doesn't change the fact that she inspires me. 
> 
> I struggled with writing this, since I've never quite experienced this, but I tried my best. I ended it fairly short, despite wanting to make it much longer. I also don't like this ending, and while I would prefer to work on it until I like it, I'm not willing to work on it anymore. It makes me tired, and I just want to finish it.
> 
> I really don't like how it turned out.
> 
> Playlists I listened to while writing this:  
> [Avengers Infinity War Fucked Me Up ](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYG85jqr9jkQ7BamkVz5Y_lGXL8mI6XmE)  
> [Deareset Melancholy, Leave Me to Rest](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYG85jqr9jkSTgLaY6Us3wTO9JNtSDBu7)  
> [I Miss You So, So Much. Please Come Back.](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYG85jqr9jkSk-f4S79M-c6ktjq3Jzg_4)  
> [Lowkey Sad](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wctHelpInEc&list=PLYG85jqr9jkREORWDcGVNCfYRBWYFKx9X)  
> [Whispering a Melody](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYG85jqr9jkT_a1aGxTDsmt6uGbBTSbX4)


End file.
